


used to know

by ndnickerson



Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), F/M, First Time, Masturbation, Post-Series, chuck - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to be more than this. More than this to her, more than this to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	used to know

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the Chuck series finale, so it does include some mild spoilers for that.

They all end up at Adam's house for it, for the finale broadcast, although they've all seen the final cut. It feels like a wake, a little. He has snacks and they order pizzas (Zac still remembers what Yvonne likes on hers and orders her a half), and they all bring beer. Adam takes a slug of Johnnie Walker Black before the opening credits have even rolled.

They can't really watch because it'll be bad—it's hard to remember that it was barely a month and a half ago that they were filming it—and so they drink, and catch up with each other. They're all there, Adam and Zac and Yvonne, Josh and Mekenna, Sarah and Ryan and Vik and Scott. Chris even comes by for a little while, and he groans when he sees the Subway party platter.

Yvonne doesn't mention the SoBe shoot, although Zac has every frame of it burned into his memory. Thinking about it makes him pour a shot from Adam's bottle and toss it straight down his throat. And then Josh mentions it and says _damn, girl, you've been keeping in shape,_ and Yvonne tosses her hair and laughs and plucks an olive off a slice of pizza.

Between the two episodes Zac pulls up Twitter on his iPhone and scrolls through the hashtag. There are lots of exclamation points. Lots and lots of exclamation points.

When Josh brings up the movie idea there's a desperation in their voices. It's been like a dream, having four and a half years of this when they were lucky to get past the first six months, and leaving it—shit.

The thing is, there was _Thor_ , and now... well, Zac doesn't know _what_ , now. The show had gotten the unexpected order and he'd had to turn the part down, and Adam will always be Jayne, and Yvonne will kick ass across entire continents, and Zac...

Zac wants to be Chuck. Wants to be the guy up there on the screen, who went from awkward nerd to suave spy. Who gets to win the girl's heart all over again, at the end.

(Watching Yvonne's face when Sarah said _I just don't feel it_ had felt like the time she had said it, to him, so damn long ago.)

 _So how is that guy? Trevor?_ Mekenna bumps her shoulder against Yvonne's as she dips into a bag of microwave popcorn. Josh is studying his cell; a second later, Zac's phone goes off with a Words With Friends notification.

And they will never be like this, again. The movie is a pipe dream.

Chuck getting another first time with Sarah. Chuck winning her all over again. Her slow, then dazzling grin.

Zac misses all of it, but he misses _her_ the most, has always known that he will miss her the most. He'll miss her for the rest of his life, and every time he sees her, it'll hurt a little more. He can't bear the thought of it hurting less.

They watch the pan-out at the end and Zac walks out before they all start the goodbyes, the nice-to-see-yous. Vik and Scott head out first, and Sarah, and they hug and swear they'll keep in touch, and maybe they will. Maybe.

Back inside, the liquor cabinet is open, the sodas out.

Zac and Josh drink and drink, and Adam joins in, and they end up in a big circle playing poker, the three of them and Yvonne and Mekenna and Ryan. Yvonne and Mekenna drink until they're flushed and Adam chomps on a cigar and they laugh, and it feels like forever since they've just relaxed with each other.

Zac knows he's drunk when he wants to run his fingers through Yvonne's hair.

Ryan's sober enough to leave at two a.m. but none of the rest of them are. They distribute sleeping bags like some middle-school sleepover and Josh and Zac go out on the back deck to sober up a little. The wind is cool but they're both in shirt sleeves and they can't feel it.

Josh takes a long breath. _It was awesome, wasn't it._

_Yeah. It was._

They're talking about the new Soul Calibur when Yvonne walks out, stumbling, giggling. Josh shoots Zac a look before he heads back inside; Josh has known from the first second Zac and Yvonne saw each other, how he felt. How she said she didn't.

How it was obvious she did every time they looked at each other.

Yvonne has her tiny purse with her, and Zac does a double take when she pulls out a pack and a lighter.

_The fuck?_

_It's for a role._ She takes a drag and coughs a little. _I know. It's disgusting._

Zac nods. _Have you_ ever _smoked?_

She shrugs. _A few times. At parties._

_And you were always so dead-set—_

_Shut urrrrrrp._

Zac grins. Her accent slides back to full Australian when she's this lit. _No, youauououou shut urrrrp—_

She bumps her shoulder against his and she's grinning too and he feels that little lift in his heart. He hates being around her drunk, and he loves being around her drunk. Every time their skin touches, when the cameras are off—fuck, it's like electricity.

Then she frowns a little. _Oh, fooook._

He actually holds her fucking hair while she throws up, and yeah, her hair feels great. He looks down at his hand and, for a while, the prop wedding ring had felt strange on his finger. Now it feels like an absence when it isn't there.

He wants to be more than this. More than this to her, more than this to himself. It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter how much he wants to impress her, to be the kind of guy she will want on her arm on the red carpet, not just the co-star she's posing with.

_You know how long it's been since I've..._

The whisky is still warm at the back of his throat when he grins at her. _Hmm. A month?_

She flips him off.

The media room is dark, the floor a patchwork of blankets and sleeping bags and breathing bodies. He sees one last bundle near the TV and unrolls it to spread underneath them, and she finds a blanket to share, and the prospect of lying down beside her after doing it so many times on the show shouldn't make his heart pound like this.

He's almost asleep, despite Josh's snores, when he hears her murmur, her voice slow with liquor and exhaustion, _I don't want it to be over._

He waits a beat before he whispers, _I don't either._

\--

She's out of town for four days for reshoots and he reads over a few scripts. He thinks about being tied to a superhero franchise, about being typecast as the hunky nerd, about being the third in romcom love triangles, about indie films...

About her, about how they'll never be cast together again, about how incredibly lucky he was to have what he _did_ have with her, how he's about to screw it all up.

About how he screwed it up when they parted with a handshake on the last day of filming and he went back home and thought about bringing her home for Christmas, her in tight jeans and tight sweaters and easy grins, scaling mountains on the weekends. How she looked on set with that ridiculous fan blowing her hair back while she pranced around in garters and stockings and bustiers.

About reading the script for their honeymoon episode and thinking that they'd be in bed a lot more often, and feeling strangely disappointed when they weren't.

She comes over to his place—neither of them want to deal with the pap questions if they're spotted together in a restaurant—and he has wine and tequila and delivery places on speeddial... and the worst case of sweaty palms he's had since high school.

But her smile is like the sun after clouds.

\--

It happens two weeks later when they go out with Josh and Adam and Mekenna and Sarah and the margaritas are on special, and they split nachos and sizzling skillets of fajitas. Yvonne and Mekenna and Sarah have some sort of in-joke going, and Josh and Zac can _always_ nerd out over the latest video game leaks, and Adam asks how the whole Nerd Machine thing is going, and they toss around ideas for a Funny Or Die video.

And, hell, Yvonne had her entire fucking _body_ painted for a promo shoot. And that takes them down a mental path Zac has tried to avoid for a while.

Yvonne is barely inside Zac's house when he kisses her, hard, the way Chuck wouldn't kiss Sarah. He pins her against the wall, boosting her hips to match his, and she has her fingers twisted in the collar of his shirt. The faintest hint of stale cigarettes is on her clothes and her hair smells like vanilla and lavender.

He thinks it will only work if they don't talk about it, but he doesn't know exactly what _will_ work _._

She's panting when she pulls the tail of his shirt up and digs her nails into the small of his back, angling his hips to her. She lets out a little chuckle, her lashes low, as he snakes a hand under the short hem of her dress, angles his fingers between her panties and skin and pushes two into the slit of her sex.

And she's slick and hot, so much that his knees almost buckle.

She pulls her dress off and tosses it to the floor as he swiftly tugs his shirt off, and she sets her nimble fingers to his fly as he pushes her panties down. They lose her bra, his pants, her heels, his shoes and underwear, their mouths hot and insistent, on the way to his bedroom.

And she's waxed smooth between her thighs, and he thinks of that damn SoBe shoot and his cock bobs a little in response.

They collapse to his bed and roll around, joined in hungry kisses, and he learns and relearns every line of her, the lines he's subconsciously memorized during embraces and kisses in front of the camera, but they're more _alone_ than they've ever been before, no personal assistants or stylists or runners poised to knock on the door.

She grasps his cock and chuckles a little before kissing her way down, slow, and he takes a shaking breath before he nudges her. _How about... you..._

She understands his vague gesture and flashes him a wicked grin before reversing over him. He strokes gently against her smooth inner thighs.

 _Condoms in the drawer,_ he murmurs, before he pushes her knees apart.

It's like a race, a race he knows he can't win, to make her come before he does. He drives three fingers between her thighs, flicking his tongue over her clit, as she wraps her fist around the base of his cock and runs her tongue around the head.

Yeah. He will not win.

He thrusts his fingers deep and she shivers, letting out a soft whimper as he suckles against her clit. In retaliation she takes half his length in her mouth and he growls, flipping her over. What's more amazing is that she lets him.

His tongue is buried in her sex and her mouth is slick and perfect around his cock when he shudders and gives in, and she doesn't flinch back. It takes him a moment to gasp his breath back.

 _Tell me what you want,_ he begs her.

_Why don't I show you._

She is sprawled on his bed, his _fucking bed_ , one hand toying with her breast, the other working frantically between her thighs, her thumb rapidly stroking her clit as she fingers herself. The taste of her is still on his tongue and he swallows, watching her hips piston up off the bed as she makes herself come.

She closes her eyes, gasping her breath back, her face flushed, as he pulls out a condom, rolls it on. _You have_ got _to be slick as fuck right now._

The corners of her lips turn up. _Were you paying good attention?_

_Let's find out._

He lowers himself to her, his hips between her spread legs, but he kisses her first, and oh, she buries her fingers in his hair and the taste of tequila and their sexes mingle and _fuck_ , he wants to take her then. She's all lazy blue eyes and a halo of golden hair and she's _his_ , for right now, for as long as he can make this last.

He slows the kiss and she rakes her nails down his back as he gently squeezes her breasts, squeezes her nipples, feels her arch up under him. She's still sensitive and she'll probably come as fast as he does, and the ache of his cock is insistent when he smells her arousal, when he feels her hips buck up to his.

Then she flips him onto his back and he cups her thighs and—

Four and a half years, four and a half _fucking_ years of foreplay—

He lets out a loud groan as she angles him under her and her sex enfolds his, slow, until he focuses long enough to flick his thumb against her still-swollen clit, and she lets out the sexiest moan he has ever heard in his entire damn life as she spreads her knees, taking his full length.

She fucks him rough, hard, whimpering with every stroke of his thumb against her clit, and his other hand drifts over her, against the tips of her hair as it sways with her thrusts, over her breasts, as she flushes and he shudders.

_Her._

This could ruin him, this feeling, the intoxication of being inside her.

She tosses her head back, her whimpers gone so high and desperate he can barely hear them, but they make him strain and arch up under her anyway. She looks unspeakably beautiful. She _is_ unspeakably beautiful.

And there is no script, no excuse, no pretending. _He_ is doing this to her, with her.

She comes and the slick clench of her sex around his makes him shudder, and he lets out a long groan as he comes.

She collapses to his chest and oh, _fuck_ , the weak aftershocks inside her. He drapes his arms around her.

_When does shooting start?_

She turns her head, brushing her hair out of her face. _Next week. Vancouver._

_Vancouver's awful cold this time of year._

He can hear the grin in her voice. _Yeah, but_ this _... this could keep me warm._

He traces the line of her spine. _A little hide-a-bed in a trailer on the backlot. My second home. I think I could make that work._

She chuckles and her cheek is warm against his shoulder.

It's impossible as anything else they've done, but he lets himself imagine that maybe this won't end.

At least, not yet.


End file.
